December 9th, 2018


A duty of care

My two sisters and I weathered a crisis over the summer in which our mother, 88, underwent three surgeries. The third one was an emergency, during which she was taken from her condo on a stretcher, to the emergency room, to surgery, to rehab, and thence to her new assisted living apartment.

She never saw her own home again.

We prepared and sold the condo in short order. We were going to need that money pretty fast to pay the assisted living rent. Mom agreed to it all willingly.

An elderly woman in blue shirt and pants, in a wheelchair in a large institutional room with big windows and linoleum floors. Her daughter, laughing, is pushing the chair.
My mom and my younger sister, touring "the home"

It was such a nice place! 24-hour on-call help, three pleasant meals a day served in a communal dining room, but all the privacy of a normal life in the apartment itself. Rides to doctor appointments. Medication monitoring. Laundry, housecleaning, and bed-linen changing provided.

Circular driveway and covered entrance to a large apartment facility, labeled The Terrace
The Home

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